


"it's hard, isn't it?"

by jisungspancakes, KatsumiKats03



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Drabble, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Han Jisung | Han is a Sweetheart, Light Angst, M/M, Meet-Cute, Railways, Runaway, Running Away, Strangers to Friends, open ended story, railroad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 03:54:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20147194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jisungspancakes/pseuds/jisungspancakes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatsumiKats03/pseuds/KatsumiKats03
Summary: Han walks the street at night, with his knapsack full of food, clothes and all his money. He feels the cold wind flow through his hair as he approaches the bus stop, only to find someone there already. The stranger looks up at him and seems to see right through him. "It's hard isn't it?"





	"it's hard, isn't it?"

**Author's Note:**

> A short, one-shot, drabble AU I wrote with my friend, I hope you enjoy. :)  
  
~ Minho and Jisung have a meet-cute during their lowest moments, a drabble.

_ "You're pathetic. I can't believe we gave birth to such a lazy son. What have you done in your life? Nothing." _

_ "I don't think he'll ever achieve anything." _

_ "Not when all he does is sit around." _

_ "You're so lazy! Do you ever leave your room?" _

Did Jisung ever leave his room? Sure. He left occasionally. But he really wasn't the type of person to leave often, if he was honest. He'd rather stay inside and do things from a comfortable spot in his bed, or in the warmth of his sweats. 

But right then? Right then he wanted to leave. He wanted to run and never return. He packs as many clothes as he can grab, putting his favourite hoodie over his head and effectively wiping the tears brimming in his eyes as he did so. He grabbed his portable power bank and charger, grabbing two earbuds, one of them Bluetooth. He quietly rummaged the fridge, grabbing two water bottles and as many snacks as he could fit in his bag. Finally, he peers inside his bedroom, grabbing the secret piggy bank full of the measly hundred or so dollars he'd saved up from his summer job. 

With one final look at his room, he left. 

Running down the street, he heard yelling behind him. It was his mother, but he ignored her and continued. He couldn’t look back now, a new life was to come and he wasn’t ready for it. 

Jisung’s bag sagged to one side killing his shoulder. He’d been walking for several hours; he wasn’t sure where he was, but he was glad he wasn’t home. 

Jisung stumbled upon a small park, lonely and rundown, yet still lively in some way. For a moment or so he felt safe, like he was being cradled by the wind that ran through his hair.

The street lights buzzed, overpowering the noises of the cars that passed by. He looked up at the sky, staring at the sparse speckle of stars peeking through the clouds. 

For a moment he only looked at the stars, his arms at his sides and his shoulders sagging. 

_ Why was he here? _He wouldn't be able to survive on his own. He was too weak, too immature for that. He would die on the first week from sheer starvation. Did he even know how to cook? 

He dropped his backpack, hearing it _ clunk! _ dreadfully behind him. He ignored it. 

He swung from streetlight to streetlight, dancing with the moths as he hummed along to a tune he could not recall. He didn't know what came over him, but he felt the sudden need to be _ free. _ To _ move. _If he didn't move, he would burst into tears and his knees would give out. If he didn't move he would not be able to go any further. 

Finally, he reached the park exit. A few feet away, he could just barely see the glistening sign of the bus stop, shining from the summer rain. 

He took out his phone to check the weather. There were going to be scattered rain storms today.

But he didn't bring his raincoat. Typical him, forgetting to check the smallest things in his rush to escape. Should he go back to get it? 

But he didn't want to go back just yet. Or at all. So he forced himself to trudge on. 

He picked up his backpack, about to slip his phone in his pocket before feeling it buzz. He only gave it a passing glance before putting on his earbuds to listen to Dean while watching the night sky. 

His eyes brimmed with tears as the song played. He was a young kid who was lost, lost in his mind. Surrounded by thoughts that thrashed through his mind. 

He looked up at the sky, feeling the raindrops sprinkle across his face mixing with his tears. 

“Where do I go now?” He said to himself. 

He wiped his tears with his sleeve and headed to the nearest homeless shelter to dry off from the rain. 

He checked his phone- now at 35%- and was dismayed to see the shelter would take far too long on foot. Though he could barely see even that from the torrent of notifications popping up on his screen.

_ The bus stop it is. _He thought, before slipping the phone in his bag so he wouldn't feel the constant buzzing. At this point, his phone would die from notifications alone. 

He trudged forward, tears he tried to hold back now running down his cheeks. His eyes started to sting from the mix of his own tears and rain, his shirt measly protection against the gradual onslaught. 

Finally, he reached the bus stop. The next bus wouldn't be here until 3 am… wonderful. He had to wait for a little over half an hour. He sat under the cover of the bus waiting area, letting out a sigh as he slipped off his backpack. 

He looked up when he did, realizing there was someone else with him. 

Jisung stared at him for a couple of minutes before the boy looked up at Jisung, staring into his captivating eyes. 

“It's hard, isn't it?" He spoke softly. 

Jisung, startled by the stranger’s comment, moved back to cover his now swollen tear-stained cheeks. 

“My name's Jisung.” He spoke, letting out a slight sniffle. “What’s yours?” He whispered, trying not to raise his voice. 

The stranger's gaze seemed to soften, as he moved a bit closer to Jisung.

"Minho. But I haven't heard someone say my name in a while." He murmured. He seemed to be naturally soft-spoken-- like his words were covered in sugar and mixed with afternoon tea. 

"Minho," Jisung muttered, feeling the name on his tongue. He heard a sharp intake of breath beside him, and looked up.

He was startled to see how close Minho has gotten, as he gave him a wide-eyed glance. 

"Please say it again," Minho whispered. 

“Minho…” he said with a smile. 

The rain had gotten worse, the raindrops hitting the ground and making thumping sounds. It wasn’t a gentle atmosphere anymore. 

The _crack_ of thunder and lightning shot through the sky causing Jisung to let out a squeak and grab onto Minho, closing his eyes. 

The soft embrace was comforting. Jisung hadn’t felt this in a while; he felt like he was at home, but would this feeling actually last. 

Minho shuddered under his touch, nudging his face into the crook of his neck.

"You're so warm." He said, smiling against his neck, as he wrapped his arms around his back. 

Jisung snorted. "I'm drenched and freezing."

"Yes. But you're still warm." Minho's voice cracked just as another whip of thunder crackled. 

Jisung glanced at him. Maybe he wasn't the only one who needed this hug. 

He let himself experience the warmth of the embrace, enjoying the contrast with the ice-like rain. Every time thunder roared or lightning screamed, he'd jump and snuggle closer, but Minho didn't seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it. 

He hoped the rain wouldn't cease just yet.

Three am rolled around and the bus finally arrived. Jisung pulled away from Minho, frowning. He enjoyed the boy’s company. 

“Wanna come along?” He asked him. “I’m not sure where I’m going but it could be fun.” He spoke, eager to get away from this place. 

Minho nodded, following the sweet boy onto the bus. 

He looked at Jisung’s bag noticing how it seemed to hurt him. “I’ll take this...” he said, lifting the bag and setting it next to them on the bus. 

Jisung noticed the lights from the buildings gleaming against the raindrop splattered windows and how the warm air broke the silence of the quiet streets. 

Minho leaned against his shoulder, his eyes drifting shut. Jisung looked over, admiring how the city lights laid patterns on Minho's cheeks. It painted his skin into gold and whites, before splashing into mundane blues of the bus lights. 

The rain pitter-pattered against the window before gradually quieting to a whisper. Until finally, it seemed to stop. 

Conversely, his heartbeat was like a drum.

It was beating rapidly in his chest, the sounds loud in his ears as he stared at the stranger. 

Caught in a trance, he doesn't realize the bus had stopped until Minho's eyes open and snapped to his. 

They stare at each other for a moment. 

The bus driver rings the bell once more, warning them that this was the last stop. 

Jisung jumps from his seat grabbing his bag and Minho’s hand. 

They walked along the narrow road, Jisung looked up at the night sky. 

“Mom always said if you go far you’ll see the stars,” Jisung spoke, breaking the silence.

Minho smiled, enjoying the boy's company. “Jisung, Why are you here? By yourself?” He asked, concerned about the boy.

Jisung closed his eyes, not wanting to answer in fear of falling apart. So he let the wind tousle his hair and the sounds of the city distract him for a moment. 

Minho didn't say anything. 

He drags Minho's hand forward, as they follow the night sky. 

After a few beats of comfortable quiet, they arrive at the abandoned rail yard. 

He pulls them towards the empty rails, jumping over them one by one. 

He had passed the train yard once or twice, but he always had to leave before he could properly look at it.

The rails were far bigger than they seemed from afar, so he had to carefully step between the metal bars and navigate through the dirt-- now mud-- patches in between them slowly. 

Minho put in his phone flashlight for him, making Jisung feel silly for not thinking about it earlier. He carefully stepped to the other side of the rails without touching the metal parts once and punched the sky in triumph when he made it past. 

He gestured Minho forward. 

Minho smiled and followed him, nearly slipping on a particularly wet one but laughing it off. 

They continue to jump over and run along the rails, their arms spread to keep their balance. By the time they reached their fourth rail, their shoes and jeans were splattered with mud and grime, but they didn't mind. 

Jisung hopped on another of the rails, nearly falling knee first into a metal bar for the second time before Minho caught him with his arms wrapping around his torso and pulling him up. 

Deciding it was better to walk the rest of the way, they walked side by side, following the railway tracks as they did.

They didn't speak, letting the laughter that filled the dry air speak for them.

Jisung stopped when he found a ladder on top of a rusty orange railway car, and carefully pulled himself up. But Minho shook his head, his eyes wide. 

Jisung reached down, urging Minho to follow. 

He did. 

But the second they reached the top, Minho immediately climbed down the other side, not even sparing a glance at the night sky like Jisung hoped. 

Jisung sighed but followed suit. 

Soon they reached the end of train yard-- or more accurately, the start of it-- where a fence stood bent and broken, trying to block out intruders. His feet seemed to have dragged him here unconsciously. 

He turned to Minho, arms open wide as the light of the dying street lamp behind him flickers. 

The wind seems to stop. "Minho, tell me, why are we here?" He said finally, his throat dry from the silence. 

Minho blinked in confusion, shaking his head. “I’m not sure..” he said. “I needed some time to myself...I guess and I happened to stumble across a cute boy.” He smirked.

A crimson colour dusted across Jisung’s cheeks, but he continued.

“I’m here because I needed to leave.” He dragged his finger across the fence, looking at the night longing for a home. “Life’s like that; people hurt you, and sometimes the only way is to leave.” His head pounding from the thoughts of home. 

_ ‘What was home? How could he have one, that was safe? _’ He thought. 

Jisung turned to him, his earrings glinting in the moonlight as he gripped the fence with one hand. 

He gave him a half-smile. "What about you, Min? Why are you really here?"

Minho blinked for a moment, staring at Jisung. 

For a second he wondered if he messed up. Did he cross the line? "I'm sorry, you don't have to answer."

Minho pursed his lips. 

He walked towards Jisung, standing just beside him. He dragged his fingers across the fence until they reached to meet Jisung's. 

For a second he stared at his hand, his thumb leaning for his. But he only looked back up at Jisung. 

"I don't know how to explain. I've just always been… alone." He stopped for a moment, so Jisung thought it was just that. But just as he was about to change the subject, Minho continued. 

"Did you know that when you pulled me up that railway car, that was the second time I've been that high up?"

Jisung shook his head. 

"I'm terrified of heights. Every time I'm up there, I immediately feel the urge to come back down. But when I'm finally on the ground and safe from falling, I can't help but wonder why I didn't stay up there. Why I didn't stay up there and admire the sky-- even if it was just for a moment-- before coming back down." He sighed. 

"It's a bit like that, I guess. I'm always called names but never spoken to by my name if that makes sense. I'm always taken to those heights but immediately brought back down. It's kinda sad. Pathetic, really. I'm 21, and I can't even defend myself." He laughed bitterly. 

Jisung shook his head, before glancing at the hand next to his on the fence. After a moment's hesitation, he intertwined their thumbs. 

"No," he said softly, "age doesn't matter when it comes to things like this. I'm sorry you had to deal with that."

Their faces met, staring once again.

Jisung’s eyes glittered in the moonlight, making Minho’s heart flutter. He’d never been fond of people but Jisung was different. Jisung held onto Minho’s hands, “We’ll figure this out eventually. It’ll take a while.” He whispered. 

While Minho’s hands were being held by a beautiful stranger, the sky cried making everything drenched in her way. 

Jisung didn’t mind, the warm air and summer rain calmed the blazing fire in Jisung’s mind. 

"There's a shelter nearby here." He spoke loudly, trying to speak over the sound of the crackling rain against the earth. "I wanted to go there after I was off the bus but I… got distracted."

Minho laughed. "Yeah, I was gonna go there too!" He said, his voice crisp against the roaring rain. 

Jisung smiled wide, as he let go of the now icy wet fence to intertwine their hands. 

Their fingers were practically frozen against each other, and his back and feet were numb from the amount of rain he's been in. He'd surely get a cold or fever at some point, but he didn't care right then. 

He took a final look around the railroad, basking in the eerie but calming atmosphere--- which, coupled with the rain, seemed to add an almost palpable sense of beginning. 

Minho looked at him with a gleam in his eyes and a smirk on his lips. Jisung responded with what he hoped was the same. 

They ran. 

They ran until their lungs burned but not burning nearly as much as their hearts or the sheer _adrenaline_ pumping through their veins. 

They ran until their lungs burned, but not burning nearly as much as the fiery blaze of passion and excitement neither had experienced and neither could ever hope to believe they deserved burned inside their soul and warmed them from their bellies. 

They ran until their lungs burned, but not burning nearly as much as their cheeks did when their intertwined fingers, though numb, squeezed each other tighter still.

Finally, they reached the shelter, their breaths coming out in short huffs that materialized in the air, their hands on their knees as they caught their breath but fingers ever entangled. 

Soon they were laughing, their lungs burning still. 

The shelter filled their bodies with warmth from a toasty fire. They were given beds and thick blankets that would cradle their problems for the night. 

“Minho you think we'll ever find a place for ourselves?” Jisung asked, rolling himself in his blankets like a burrito. 

Minho nodded, watching the squirrel-like boy, wrap himself up while giggling. '_ He seems not to have any care in the world _.' He thought. 

The sky was yelling and shrieking of pain; shaking the world underneath her. The thunderstorm came in strong but when out like a light, soon it was nowhere to be seen. 

Jisung smiled at that. Maybe the rainstorms would finally cease after such an unrelenting day. 

He checked his phone which had been buzzing all day in his bag and saw numerous calls. 

He listened to some of the voicemail. 

It was not pleasant. 

Texts of insult after insult were hurled at him, quickly devolving into pleading and begging. 

But he knew it was just a trick. He knew the second he returned it would only start again. Maybe it would be peaceful for a day. Maybe two days-- maybe, if he was lucky enough, a week. 

But he knew it would only be worse afterwards. 

With a shuddering breath, Jisung blocked his parents' numbers. Maybe he didn't need to return just yet. Or at all.

Right now he just wanted to sleep and ride to where the world would take him.

So he brought his hands-- which were still holding Minho's-- to his cheeks and cuddled into the small warmth it gave off.

After a while, he had drifted off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Please, leave comments if you liked it or if I should write more like this...Thank you!


End file.
